


An Antidote

by bluehawthorn



Series: Lessons in Kingship [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Battle of Five Armies, Caring Thranduil, Dark Thorin, Dubious Consent, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Erebor, Gold Sickness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maybe Everyone Lives and No One Dies?, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Slash, Thorinduil - Freeform, Thrandorin, Thranduil POV, Throne Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluehawthorn/pseuds/bluehawthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin retakes Erebor and succumbs to gold sickness. Thranduil seeks an audience with the newly crowned King Under the Mountain, offering himself to Thorin in an attempt to reach him through the madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Antidote

**Author's Note:**

> This will make much more sense if you read An Initiation, A Growing Trust and A Brief Reprieve, the first three fics in this series first. But in case you don't want to, here's a summary: Thorin and Thranduil have sexy times that bring them together as allies and it makes everything better. 
> 
> Please note warnings in tags - contains dubious consent and somewhat violent sex. This may be potentially triggering material for some readers.

Word has come to Thranduil that Thorin has reclaimed the mountain and crowned himself king. His company awakened Smaug, but drove the worm out of Erebor where it laid waste to Laketown and was killed by Bard, the bargeman that Thranduil has often hired to transport goods between his kingdom and the village of men across the water.

Word has also come that Thorin has succumbed to gold sickness, the ailment which drove his grandfather mad and led Thror to betray his allies, including Thranduil. Had it not been for Thorin's courage many years ago in returning the Gems of Lasgalen to him, Erebor and Mirkwood could now have been at war. 

Instead, Thorin has turned his back on Laketown, its survivors having come to him for the share of the treasure Thorin promised and which they now need to rebuild their lives. Bard is their new leader and has tried to negotiate with Thorin to no avail. 

Thranduil remembers Thror when he was in the thrall of this sickness. He remembers the malicious vacancy in him - like everything that had once made him who he was had gone and been replaced with greed. The thought of Thorin reduced in such a way makes something in him ache. And now that a dragon has brooded over the gold of Erebor, its power must be even greater.

Thranduil has made a decision. He will bring aid to the men of the lake, and ask the dwarves to let him into the mountain. He hopes to reach Thorin where he lies buries beneath the weight of this sickness. 

Thorin is strong. Stronger than his grandfather. He has known such hardship, such loss and now such victory, although the price for it has been high. Surely he can be brought back from this.

Regardless, Thranduil knows he must try.

It surprises him, this new willingness to be involved in affairs outside his borders. It has been many centuries since he has cared enough to reach his rule beyond ensuring the safety of his kingdom. His relationship with Thorin has changed him.

He prepares to leave.

******************

They arrive in Erebor less than a day later. Thranduil instructs his envoy to tend to the people of Laketown and rides his elk to the foot of the mountain. Several of the company are watching from the ramparts. They see him approach and soon two dwarves come to meet him, one dark and the other golden-haired. 

He unmounts and strides toward them. It is the two young ones – Thorin’s nephews. The last time he saw them they were playful and brash. Now they appear grave and troubled. 

"Thorin's sister sons," he says. “I have come for an audience with the King Under the Mountain.”

They incline their heads in acknowledgment and the darker haired one, Kili he thinks it is, speaks slow and seriously, "Our uncle is changed. He will not see anyone.”

“Yes, I know well of the sickness that afflicts your uncle. But he and I have more of a history than you know. Tell him that I am alone and that I come to pay him tribute. He will see me,” Thranduil replies, hoping that what he says is true.

The other dwarf, the one he believes is Fili and Thorin’s heir, says simply, “We will try.” They leave him and return to the mountain.

The better part of an hour passes before the brothers return. They draw close and the dark one nods, and says, “He has agreed to see you.” The other takes the reins of his steed and leads it away while the first gestures him forward, into the great halls of Erebor.

This is the place where he and Thorin first met - where Thorin did him a great favour and where Thranduil deflowered Thorin when he was still a young dwarf prince, even younger than the one who walks beside him now. He allows himself a moment of remembering that night and the unexpected bond it seeded. It strengthens his resolve. 

As they walk, Thorin’s nephew asks quietly, “Have you any news of Tauriel?” Ah yes. This is the dwarf who has captured the attention of the Captain of his Guard. 

He knows only that Tauriel and Legolas accompanied the dwarves to Laketown. He does not know where they are now and can only hope that they are safe.

“No, unfortunately I do not. I was hoping that someone here might know where Tauriel and Legolas have gone. I would be grateful if you could share with me what you know."

Kili, if that is indeed his name, clears his throat as though considering what to share. Then everything comes tumbling out in a rush. He is much like his uncle.

“Tauriel saved my life...again,” he says, speaking her name with reverence but putting a wry twist on the word _again_. “Several of us were left behind when Thorin came to the mountain. Tauriel and Legolas helped fight off a party of orcs that attacked us and Bard’s family. I had been shot by an orc arrow and Tauriel stayed to heal me from its poison. She then helped us get out of Laketown while it burned.”

“I saw her last on the shores of the lake where the survivors had gathered. Legolas returned and they were together when I left. I do not know where they went and...I very much wish to see her again.”

Thranduil sees the worry on Kili's face and tries to be comforting. “Do not be concerned. She and Legolas will keep each other safe, as they have always done." The dwarf's scowl only deepens, and Thranduil realizes with a small bit of amusement that he is jealous. 

He thinks that his graceful Captain and this ardent dwarf prince would make an odd match, but he himself knows something of strange couplings. Honestly, he wishes them well if they truly care for one another, although it makes him worry for the heart of his son, who he knows also has feelings for Tauriel. 

Such is the way of love or any kind of connection really – it is pain and joy always intermixed. 

For himself, he suspects it will be more pain than joy today.

*****************

And so it is. 

As soon as he enters the throne room, Thranduil can feel the sickness in Thorin as though it twists tangibly in the air all around him. He reclines on his throne, dressed in lush dark furs, the raven crown of Erebor gleaming jaggedly on his head.

As they approach, Kili frowns but bows slightly to Thorin and leaves them alone. 

Thranduil walks to the foot of the throne and Thorin looks down on him smirking, his face as hard as the rock that lies all around them. He looks...dangerous.

This will be nothing as simple as orc poison to heal. 

“Thranduil,” Thorin says in that low rumbling voice that used to make his blood rise, but is now empty of the personality it once brimmed with. “Why have you come?”

Thranduil was once able to read every feeling as it trembled like leaf-shadow across the dwarf’s face. Now there is nothing but a sort of cruel leering. He can tell immediately that there will be no reasoning with Thorin in this state. The sickness lies too deep upon him. He must try to reach him through baser means.

Starting with pride. 

“I have come to pay tribute to the new King Under the Mountain.” He bows his head and even dips the slightest bit at the knee, just enough for Thorin to register the action without it seeming false. 

“Ahhhh, do you?” says Thorin, his smile wolfish and cold. “And how will you offer tribute to me, great elvenking?”

"I thought my presence to be enough. However, if more is expected I will offer whatever I can. I am assuming you need no more treasure. What do you wish to have in tribute instead?”

“Whatever you can." Thorin echoes, his smirk growing darker, his tone layered with meaning and his gaze suddenly heavier against Thranduil's skin. "What if I wish to see you kneeling?”

Thranduil feels sick at this twisted mockery of their former banter, but forces himself to smile back and paint some seduction onto it. “You have seen it before. Perhaps it could be arranged again.” 

And then the smile is gone from Thorin’s face. His voice is sharp and commanding. "Here. Now." His eyes move to the base of the throne and Thranduil gives himself a moment to consider leaving. Then he obeys, climbing the handful of stairs between them.

He did not expect things to escalate so quickly, but he came here willing to have his body used if it might awaken some memory in Thorin. He lowers himself to his knees in front of the newly crowned king. 

Thranduil enjoys being dominated nearly as much as he enjoys his own power over others and he feels a small unfurling of lust, red and pulsing, as he bends before Thorin. However, he prefers his power games between players who are ultimately fond of each other, who care enough to remain respectful and keep each other safe. Here the stakes are very different from their past times together. 

There is a low flutter of apprehension in his solar plexus as his instincts register the peril here. He stills it and tries to look meek. It is not something he is overly practiced at but Thorin seems to enjoy the attempt well enough.

He knows that he is in for rough treatment and can only hope that somehow their bond will help to rouse Thorin from where he slumbers in this empty, menacing shell. For now, he will submit.

Not that Thorin gives him much choice in the matter.

The dwarf wastes no time in opening his robes and unlacing his trousers, pulling out his cock which is already hard and swollen in his hand. Thorin then lounges back again, looking at Thranduil as if waiting, all arrogant confidence that he will do as he is bid. 

Thranduil takes a deep breath, trying not to think too deeply about this sneering monster who has taken the place of his lover. He tries to imagine it is truly Thorin, that they are reunited again. And he takes the cock before him, its weight and girth familiar, into his mouth.

He swallows it back, closing his mouth around it and sucking up until his lips are wrapped around the head. He hears Thorin's breath hiss out, his head reclining back against his throne as Thranduil's mouth slides back down again. He is just beginning to find a rhythm when Thorin's thick strong hands close over the sides of his head, tangling unkindly in his hair. 

And then Thorin is thrusting into his mouth, pulling him forward until the dwarf’s cock hits the back of his throat and pushing Thranduil’s face back along his length. It is jolting and brutal and Thranduil has to relax his jaw and throat to keep from gagging. His eyes begin to water and he finds it difficult to get a full breath.

He tries to pull away but Thorin holds him fast. Luckily Thranduil is far too old to be easily panicked, but he has to will himself calm. He stops himself from fighting harder to get away and instead surrenders and allows his mouth to be plundered. 

Thorin groans and it is a sound laden with memory for Thranduil. It reminds him why he is here and he brings his hands up to grip the dwarf’s legs to steady himself and resist as best as he can without struggling outright. 

He imagines his energy coursing into Thorin through his hands, urging him to remember himself and their connection. Thorin has always been fierce and even somewhat severe, but he is also tender in his own way; generous in sex and affection and deeply attuned to the wellbeing of others as a good leader must be. Caring only for his own pleasure in this way is not like him at all.

After Thorin fucks his mouth a few more times he lets him go abruptly and Thranduil falls back, gasping for air while Thorin tucks his cock back into his trousers. He gazes up at Thorin and knows he must look tousled and raw, his lips swollen and his face flushed. 

Thorin gets up and walks past where Thranduil is still kneeling, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He walks down the steps to the landing around his throne and unlatches the fur lined cloak from around his broad shoulders, spreading it on the ground. 

Thorin turns his gaze toward Thranduil and commands, "Undress yourself and come."

Slowly, keeping his eyes level with Thorin's in case a flicker of his true self might be seen in them, Thranduil begins to disrobe. Thorin's gaze rakes icily over his body as it is revealed, a predator assessing its prey. It sets a mixture of revulsion and desire churning in his gut. 

Finally Thranduil is naked and feels very exposed in the dark expanses of this angular, sharp-edged kingdom beneath the mountain, so unwelcoming compared to the bright spaciousness of his own underground home. All its endless shadows are a fitting background to its king's madness.

Thorin on the other hand, remains clothed. "A fitting tribute indeed," he says, that same smirk back on his face. Thorin gestures to the cloak and Thranduil moves toward it and lies down on his back.

Thorin crouches over him, lifting Thranduil’s legs and bending them back so that his thighs are pressed to his belly and chest and he is pinned down by Thorin's weight and will.

Thorin pulls his trousers down around his hips and situates himself between Thranduil's legs. He slicks his cock with saliva, uses one hand to tilt Thranduil's hips up and pushes against his entrance. Thranduil takes a deep breath in and has to remind himself to exhale as he endures the pain of Thorin taking him without any preparation. 

Although he can handle the pain of penetration well enough, he has a moment of fear as he feels the strength of Thorin against him. Thranduil is strong himself, but his strength is spread over long limbs and is flexible and lithe. Thorin's power is all the more considerable for how compact it is, how concentrated. He has the resilient strength of trees bending in the wind while Thorin's is that of stone, unmoveable. 

Thranduil feels unsure that he could escape if Thorin bent his full force to overpowering him. He is not used to feeling vulnerable in this way and although it does hold a small thrill, it is also extremely discomfiting.

And then suddenly it feels as though Thorin actually _is_ holding him down as he begins to thrust and Thranduil’s body strains to get away from the burning friction of it. This only seems to inflame Thorin more and he begins riding Thranduil mercilessly, pushing his legs back so hard that the breath is being squeezed from his lungs. 

Thranduil reminds himself to untense his muscles, to submit to Thorin’s body, which is as unyielding as the bones of the earth that lie all around them. But his own feels nearly split in half by Thorin’s cock and it is no use. His muscles contract against Thorin's onslaught despite his mind's command to relax and it makes the pain even more.

They have been far less than gentle with each other before, but it has never been like this. Where before there has always been a desire to please, all he feels from Thorin now is a desire to possess.

But even still, he chooses not to struggle or ask Thorin to stop. He decides to continue with this plan because it is the only one he has. He bears the discomfort. After all, he has known much worse.

Thorin looks wild and vicious in the throes of his pleasure. The flex of his hips is becoming even more savage but also more shallow and Thranduil can see that he is nearing his end. Thorin makes a sound that is more like a battle cry than a noise of passion and then Thranduil can feel his body being flooded with the dwarf king’s seed. Thorin pushes into and against Thranduil one last time, his face contorted as the last of his orgasm wracks his body.

And then as soon as it is over, Thorin suddenly freezes. Thranduil stills as well and their eyes meet. “Thorin?” he asks.

“Thranduil?” he replies quietly, in a voice he recognizes as his lover's true one. Thorin pulls out of him and away. “What have I done?” 

Thranduil sees the look of guilt and horror spreading over his face and reaches out for Thorin, assuring him, “No, no. You have not done anything. I came here of my own choice and gave myself to you willingly. I was hoping for this...hoping I might help you fight your sickness.”

“I have been lost to it.” It is almost a question but not quite.

Thranduil smiles and strokes his hand over Thorin’s cheek. “Not for long. There is no damage that cannot be easily undone. But I am very glad to see your real face again. How do you feel?”

“I can still feel it pressing at me, constricting the edges of my mind. It's like I can feel the gold breathing...” Thorin's eyes go vacant and far away, his voice changing again for a moment and Thranduil can see the pull of the sickness on him. "I can feel it calling to me." 

Thranduil takes him by the shoulders and forces Thorin to look up into his eyes. “Thorin, you must fight it. You know full well the cost it has. You will fight it and win. I will be here to help you as long as you need.”

Thorin nods and says, "I must go to Fili and Kili, to the company. I must show them that I am myself again.”

And then he looks again at Thranduil, taking in his naked, disheveled form. “But, I have hurt you. I am sorry...I -” 

Thranduil cuts him off. "I am fine Thorin.”

Thorin takes off his coat and wraps it around Thranduil’s shoulders anyways, asking, “You came here just to help me?”

“And to bring aid to the people of Laketown.” 

At the mention of Laketown, Thorin looks stricken again as he begins to remember. 

“Hush now,” says Thranduil. “My people are tending to them. You can make amends. Everyone knows the gold in this mountain is poisoned. People will forgive you and moreover will be awed that you were able to recover yourself so quickly. It is a testament to your strength Thorin, not your weakness.”

“I only recovered because of you. You were the antidote. I could not have... I do not know what to say.” 

Thranduil smiles again. “Then kiss me. And make it up to me later. In a proper bed this time.”

And Thorin moves to kiss him on the forehead and then the mouth. He gets up and brings his robes so that Thranduil can dress himself. Soon after, they leave the throne room side by side.

*************

Thranduil watches from a distance as Thorin greets his men again as himself. He sees their relief as they find their king returned to them, the way foreheads are touched and tearful smiles spread across faces. It is evident that Thorin is very well loved by his kin and company. 

They sit down to council and plans are laid to make recompense to the men of Laketown in the morning. 

Thranduil observes them closely as they discuss things amongst themselves. On the whole, Thorin's kind and his own have not tended toward friendship. Quite the opposite. And Thranduil never imagined himself for a lover of dwarves. Not until Thorin. 

Even then he imagined Thorin an exception. And of course he is exceptional. But watching him flanked by the others, Thranduil cannot help but rethink his earlier prejudices. 

He can easily see the similarities between Thorin and his nephews. They too seem passionate and brave and headstrong but also capable of being shrewd and steady when they need to be. And the others, even the hobbit, are entirely devoted to Thorin, in a way he recognizes from when he was much younger and more inspired in his kingship. 

Even the dwarves who Thranduil found somewhat surprising choices for a quest of such magnitude are all completely focused and committed to the task at hand. If this is what Thorin's leadership brings forth and more of his kin are anything like those around this table, there is the making of a great kingdom here.

Eventually the council closes and they eat together and toast to their king's victory over gold sickness. 

It is not elegant. Supplies are thin and they are in a kingdom that has laid empty for decades except for a dragon. But the warmth of their camaraderie makes it a meal worth savouring.

Thorin ensures that Thranduil is seated next to him. They do not exchange touches or glances, but their attention is never far from the other. The dwarves know that Thranduil had a part to play in Thorin's recovery, only not what kind. He expects they must be beginning to understand that the bond between them is more than one of simply allies and fellow kings, but Thorin no longer seems to care, and Thranduil does not feel beholden to explain his relationships to anyone.

And no one questions or seems to judge as the evening wears on and they retire to Thorin's chambers together.

The dwarves have not yet fully restored the bedrooms, having been back in Erebor for such little time. But one of them has built a fire in the grate and the bed is layered with furs and blankets. As warriors he and Thorin have made do with far less and it is comfortable enough.

They lie together silently for a while. Thranduil can tell that Thorin still feels guilt for what happened earlier, but his body has already recovered and he tells the dwarf so. 

"Do not be ashamed. I am very old Thorin. I have faced demons before, many of them my own. I am only glad that you were able to return to yourself so quickly...with a little help." 

Thorin smiles wryly. "Yes, it would seem that a king needs many kinds of allies. I am afraid that this particular kind was omitted from my royal training." 

Thranduil chuckles quietly. "It was not included in mine either. But I am glad to have learned of it." 

They hold and touch each other for a long time after that. Thorin is gentle and tender with him, and takes very little pleasure for himself while giving much. Thranduil finds his release against the warm flesh of Thorin's thigh and soon after drifts off to sleep.

He awakens some time later to find Thorin still not sleeping. "What troubles you, King Under the Mountain?" he asks.

"Everything I am afraid," Thorin says quietly after a few moments. "I know that I am forgiven, at least within these walls, but I wish that I could remember more of what happened while I was possessed by the gold so that I could make it right. I worry that it will take me again; that I am too weak to resist the curse of my bloodline."

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his tired face. "I worry about facing the men of Laketown tomorrow and feel responsible for what they have lost to Smaug and for so much wasteful death. And somewhere out there Azog is alive and likely still hunting us."

"Yes," says Thranduil, "there is much to consider. But spending the night awake will not solve any of it. Sleep next to me and we can address all of these things in the morning. I will stay to offer support and council until things are more stable."

Thorin looks at him for a moment, his gaze soft. "Thank you. For everything."

"There is no need to thank me. All I wish is for you to find some rest with me," he replies. 

And so Thorin settles down next to him and wraps him up in his strong arms. Thranduil listens to the steady heartbeat of the dwarf king and the pace of his breathing as it slows. Eventually they both drift into sleep and remain that way until morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments joyfully welcomed and much appreciated.


End file.
